


A Gentle Touch

by kiyala



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Established Relationship, Glove Kink, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-08
Updated: 2015-09-08
Packaged: 2018-04-19 18:31:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4756667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiyala/pseuds/kiyala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kise has a thing for gloves. Turns out he's not the only one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Gentle Touch

**Author's Note:**

> This fic can be read either as a standalone, or as a sequel to [this](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4704479).

Ryouta is sitting on his couch, frowning down at the box on the coffee table. It's black.  Plain. Maybe too plain? He frowns at the silver ribbon he's bought, tied around the box and then and untied, at least three times at this point. It's a present, sure, but he doesn't know if he wants to make a big deal out of it, doesn't know if he _should_ make a big deal out of it, whether that would be welcome. 

The window's open and he hears the familiar roar of Yukio's motorbike. He's home, and that means Ryouta is out of time. He needs to make a decision and he needs to make it now, whether that's to wrap the box, leave it as it is, or pick it up and shove it into the back of a drawer where he doesn't have to look at it and Yukio will never find it. 

His heart is pounding, which is a little ridiculous. It's such a minor thing, in the big picture. Just a box with a present inside and _really_ , if Ryouta can't deal with a gift box now, how is he going to deal with a ring box when the time comes—? He feels his face heat at the thought and he groans into his hands, ignoring the way his heart begins to race. And here he was, trying _not_ to overcomplicate things. 

The ribbon stays, he decides, picking it up with shaking hands and tying it around the box again. He makes it sit neatly, the bow right in the centre. 

There's the scratch of keys in the lock, then the turn of the handle as Yukio lets himself into their apartment. He takes his shoes off by the door, calling out an, "I'm home!"

"Welcome home," Ryouta replies, getting to his feet and picking up the box, hiding it behind his back. He walks over to Yukio, kissing him in greeting. 

"You're hiding something behind your back," Yukio says after he kisses Ryouta in return. "Should I be worried?"

"Not at all," Ryouta smiles. "It's a present. I'll give it to you once you're sitting down."

Yukio smiles, putting his bike helmet down in its usual spot by the door. He shrugs out of his jacket and hangs it up, pulling his gloves off as he walks over to the couch. Ryouta follows him, staying one step behind, holding onto the box tightly. 

"Alright," Yukio says patiently, once he's sitting. "What's up?"

"I got you something." Ryouta sits down beside him and holds the box out. Maybe the ribbon _is_ too much. Too late to change that now. "It's. Um. Nothing big or special, but…"

Yukio gently takes the box out of Ryouta's hands, untying the ribbon and putting it on the table. He opens the box carefully, blinking at the contents of it. 

"You bought me new bike gloves."

"They're…" Ryouta can feel his face turning red. He desperately wants to look away, but he clears his throat and forces himself to hold Yukio's gaze. "They're not for your bike."

"Oh." Yukio's eyes go wide, and it's clear that he understands immediately. "Right."

"Only if you want," Ryouta says hurriedly, desperately wishing that he could be smooth with Yukio the way he's always told he is with absolutely everybody else. "It's just… you mentioned once that you didn't want to get your riding gloves dirty and so I thought that maybe…"

"Ryouta," Yukio interrupts with a small, amused smile. "I love them. Thank you."

Somehow, that only makes Ryouta more flustered. He wants to turn away and hide his face but Yukio picks that moment to take the gloves out of their box to try them on. Ryouta can't look away, even if he wants to. 

They're a snug fit, just like Yukio's other pair. The material stretches over his knuckles and for a moment, Ryouta can't quite breathe. 

"Do you like how they look?" Yukio asks, his voice deliberately pitched lower. The look in his eyes steals Ryouta's breath away all over again, because he's _into this_. He's not just doing this to humour Ryouta. 

"Yeah," Ryouta whispers. "I really do."

"Come here," Yukio pats the coffee table. He smiles when Ryouta gets up and sits in front of him on the table. Shuffling forward, Yukio sits on the edge of the couch so that they're closer. He reaches out, stroking his thumb across Ryouta's lower lip slowly. Ryouta gasps, his lips parting, and Yukio smiles. "How does that feel?"

Ryouta's eyes slide shut, his entire attention focused on the gentle touch of Yukio's gloved fingers on his skin. He forces himself to answer, because Yukio is waiting, but all he can manage is a breathy, "Good."

"Is that how you picked the gloves out?" Yukio murmurs. "By touching them to see which ones felt the best against your skin? Did you imagine me wearing them, running my hands over your body?"

Ryouta whimpers and nods, opening his eyes to find Yukio watching him intently. The tip of Yukio's thumb is sitting between his lips, and Ryouta wants it in his mouth. He parts his lips wider, watching as Yukio's eyes darken with desire. 

Yukio pushes his thumb into Ryouta's mouth slowly, dragging it over his tongue. Ryouta sucks on it gently and they both moan, catching each other's gaze and laughing quietly. Yukio shifts closer, keeping his thumb in Ryouta's mouth. He uses his free hand to unbutton Ryouta's shirt, letting it fall open as he works his way down. 

Ryouta moans as he feels Yukio's hand running down his chest, fingers circling one his nipples. Yukio pulls his thumb away and Ryouta is about to whine in protest, but then both hands are on his chest, pinching gently. Ryouta cries out, jerking forward. Suddenly, it feels like there's too much distance between them. Yukio must feel it too, because his hands settle on Ryouta's hips, pulling him closer, off the table and into his lap. 

They're both hard and for a moment, they just hold onto each other and grind, enjoying the friction. Yukio's hands slide up the back of Ryouta's shirt, gloved hands trailing across his skin. Ryouta shrugs out of his shirt, letting it drop to the floor. Yukio leans back against the couch cushion, looking up at him, touching his chest, his stomach, his arms. 

With a gentle touch, Yukio gets Ryouta to stand. Ryouta is unsteady on his feet, wanting nothing more than to be back in Yukio's lap, but he stays where he is. Yukio leans forward, trailing kisses across Ryouta's abdomen, fingers working to undo Ryouta's fly. He tugs and Ryouta helps, pushing his pants down, biting his lip when Yukio does the same with his boxers. Yukio pulls them all the way down, until Ryouta steps out of them, completely naked. He realises that Yukio is still wearing all of his clothes, and he shivers as he realises that he likes it. He likes the contrast of it. 

"I love how my gloves look against your skin," Yukio murmurs, running his hands over Ryouta's thighs, then around to the back of them. He slides his fingers down to the bend of Ryouta's knees, then up again. He isn't touching Ryouta's cock yet, clearly on purpose. "Do you want to move to the bed?"

"I want to stay right here," Ryouta replies. "I—I planned ahead. There's condoms and lube behind that pillow."

Yukio laughs softly, pressing another kiss to Ryouta's abdomen before reaching over to the pillow, pulling it away to confirm for himself. "You're desperate for it, aren't you?"

"Yeah, I am," Ryouta replies honestly. "Since the moment you walked in. Or even before that, actually. I've been thinking about this for a while."

"Have you?" Yukio asks, stroking the back of Ryouta's thighs. "And what do you imagine, when you think about it?"

"I think about how it'd feel to have you jerking me off with your gloves on," Ryouta mumbles, his face heating all over again. "And…"

"And?" Yukio prompts, and he must know, from the way his fingers creep higher.

"I think about your fingers in me," Ryouta says in a rush. "With your gloves on. Not even stretching me open so you can fuck me. Just…"

"Fingering you?" Yukio finishes for him, his hands sliding over the curve of Ryouta's arse, gently spreading him open. "Nice and slowly, Ryouta? Do you think about me making you come with just my fingers in you?"

"Yes," Ryouta gasps, his hands settling in Yukio's hair. He curls his fingers into it, not quite tugging, but grounding himself. "I want it."

"We're going to ruin these gloves," Yukio warns.

"I want you to," Ryouta breathes. "I'll get you new ones again."

"Fuck," Yukio says quietly, taking hold of Ryouta's hip with one hand. He wraps his fingers around Ryouta's cock, stroking slowly. 

Ryouta tries to be quiet, he really does, but he has no hope of holding back his whine. He throws his head back and it takes all of his self control not to thrust into Yukio's hand. 

Yukio is watching him and he smiles when their eyes meet. Then he leans forward, sliding his fingers down to the base of Ryouta's cock, lips wrapping around the head of it. 

Ryouta gasps sharply, tightening his grip on Yukio's hair. If anything, that only seems to encourage Yukio, stroking and sucking at the same time. Ryouta cries out, louder this time, knees going weak. Yukio pulls back with a smile, spreading his legs. He gently guides Ryouta back into his lap, kissing him gently. He's still stroking Ryouta's cock, even as he reaches over for the lube. 

"I'm going to come all over your clothes," Ryouta warns, fingers digging into Yukio's shoulders. "I like this shirt. I don't want to ruin it."

They pull apart, so that Yukio can at least pull his shirt off. It makes is gloves stand out even more, and Ryouta can't stop looking at them. Yukio looks pleased about it.

"Better?" Yukio asks, opening the bottle of lube. "…I feel kind of guilty, ruining these gloves already. You put a ribbon on the box and everything."

"You don't have to worry about it," Ryouta tells him, taking the lube from Yukio's hands and slicking his own fingers. "Here, just let me…"

He pushes a finger into himself, sighing softly and slowly adding another. He'll never tire of the way Yukio watches him when he does this, eyes wide, mouth open, like he's just seen the most amazing sight in the world. It does wonderful things for Ryouta's ego. 

"There," Ryouta murmurs, once he's stretched himself open with three fingers. He takes hold of Yukio's wrist, guiding his hand closer. He smiles when he feels two of Yukio's fingers slide into him at once. "Just like that. I just. I need your fingers in me."

"Okay," Yukio breathes. He gently crooks his fingers, making Ryouta cry out with pleasure. He kisses Ryouta's shoulder to soothe him, still slowly stroking his cock. "I've got you."

Ryouta wraps his arms around Yukio's shoulders, face buried in his hair. He tries to muffle his moans against it, especially when he feels Yukio's thumb rubbing back and forth over his perineum. He's sure that he's still being far too loud, but Yukio doesn't hush him, the way he sometimes does when he's worried about disturbing their neighbours. He lets Ryouta moan, _encourages_ it with soft kisses pressed to his jaw, with softer moans to echo his.

"Yukio," he whimpers, just as the fingers inside him drag over his prostate, and then he loses all coherency. He moans desperately as he approaches orgasm and Yukio moans right back, stroking him faster. 

Ryouta comes with a loud cry, spilling all over Yukio's hand and his chest. Yukio keeps stroking through it, until Ryouta grabs his wrist, holding him still. They rest their foreheads together, as Yukio slowly pulls his fingers out. 

He peels the gloves off, dropping them on the couch beside him, wrapping his arms around Ryouta. They sag against the couch, kissing each other, until Ryouta pulls back, reaching for Yukio's cock.

"You don't have to," Yukio murmurs, turning red when Ryouta undoes his pants, finding he's already come in them. "I—uh. I liked the gloves as much as you did." 

"Oh," Ryouta breathes, then kisses Yukio hard. 

He'd expected to be humoured and he'd been pleasantly surprised by the fact that Yukio clearly enjoyed himself too. But for him to come in his pants, just from what he was doing to Ryouta—

"I love you," Ryouta tells him. He rests his forehead against Yukio's. "I don't know what I did to deserve you, but I promise I'm going to keep doing it."

"Ugh yeah, what _did_ I do to deserve this?" Yukio mock-grumbles, but then his expression softens, wrapping his arms around Ryouta. "Love you too."

They don't move from the couch for a long time, and they end up having to throw Yukio's gloves out. 

Ryouta doesn't mind. He already bought another pair anyway.


End file.
